


snow on snow

by kehlee



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Secret Santa, Snow, non binary lafayette, non binary peggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kehlee/pseuds/kehlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three intertwining love stories set over the course of one evening during the infamous Mulligan Christmas party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. aaron burr

“But it’d be so boring without you there!” 

Those were the words that put Aaron Burr over the edge. He wasn’t ever much of a socialite, especially not in comparison to his roommate. Where his roommate would eat in the dining hall with his energetic friends, Aaron preferred to bring his food back to their room, sitting cross-legged on his bed with the tray of food in his lap and his laptop computer on his outstretched legs, swallowing forkfuls of mashed potatoes over an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. He was perfectly content to spend the holiday season the exact same way. Without family to go home to, Christmas became less of a happy, opening-presents-under-a-tree event and more of a sleeping-for-many-hours-and-ignoring-the-date thing. 

Alexander Hamilton had a different idea. The two were both without parents, so Aaron had initially believed that him and his roommate would have lots in common. After his parents’ deaths, he’d spent a considerable amount of time holed up in his room studying. Alexander had, too-- but he’d also spent a considerable amount of time running rampant among the social scene, searching for influential friends and ways to get ahead. It was exhausting just to watch. When Alexander had finally made a group of friends in John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and Gilbert Lafayette, Aaron figured he’d be left well enough alone.

When Alexander suggested that he tag along to their Christmas party, Aaron wasn’t so sure. “I don’t fit in with you guys,” he’d said. “I hate Christmas,” he’d said. “I think Secret Santa is trite and cliche,” he’d said. Alexander was relentless. 

So he’d put his name in the Secret Santa draw and he’d decided to come. He wasn’t exactly sure why. (Maybe it was the way Alexander’s eyes looked when he asked him to come along. Maybe it was the way he’d fidgeted with his hands as he invited Aaron. Maybe it was the way that Alexander somehow always managed to win him over.)

They trudged through week-old snow to the small apartment off-campus where the party was being held. Alexander might have said it was his friend Hercules’ apartment, but Aaron couldn’t recall. It didn’t matter. All that he cared about was getting through Secret Santa and leaving. 

They reach the doorstep after ten minutes or so of walking. Alexander’s nose is bright pink with cold. Aaron quickly diverts his gaze from him, casting it straight forward onto the door.

“We can just go right in,” Alexander says.

“Right.” 

Alexander swings the door open and is immediately greeted by what seems like entirely too friendly hugs, and in an instant he is swept off into the kitchen by both Lafayette and Hercules. Aaron imagines that’s the source of the vanilla cookie smell that is bombarding his nose, entirely too sweet and cheery. 

He scans the room. String lights and showy metallic tinsel line the walls. A few evergreen wreaths tied with cheerful red bows are hung against the wall alongside snowflake cut-outs and cardboard cut-outs of angels. A decorated tree stands proudly in the back corner of the room, with a few hastily-wrapped gifts shoved underneath it, all to a name and signed from ‘Secret Santa’. Aaron carelessly slides his gift under the tree. He assumes that’s what he’s supposed to do.

And then, he’s at a loss. Why’d he come to party where he only really knew one person, and everyone wanted his attention? Aaron spies a table of snacks and then a cheap cooler. He shuffles over, opens the top and-- a Miller Light. He breathes a sigh, grabs a can from the ice, and he cracks the top open with a sizzle. Aaron finds himself a seat on a couch, dejectedly flops onto it, and takes a huge gulp as he peeks around again. 

At this point, Angelica Schuyler and her siblings have arrived. Eliza with her hair done in a braid down her back and dressed in an over-sized Christmas sweater, and Peggy with xir lips painted red and hair up in two buns. The trio is breathtaking. They slip their gifts under the tree in almost unison as the door opens again. In waltzes a drift of cool air and an all-too-well dressed Tom Jefferson, who greets Angelica with a kiss on the cheek. 

Never before has Aaron felt so completely ostracized. He takes another swallow of beer as the group talks amongst each other. He sees Eliza politely refuse a drink, sees Lafayette smile when Tom walks in, sees Hercules Mulligan hastily fixing his (likely self-knit) grumpy cat Christmas sweater. But he doesn’t see Alexander. 

Where could Alexander have gotten off to? He pictures him outside, rubbing his own arms to fend of the cold. He pictures him behind closed doors, pressing kisses against someone’s lips (and, frankly, it could be anybody-- Alexander seems to flirt with every person he meets), and he pictures him somewhere normal, alone and bored. He stands in search of his roommate, wandering the thin hallway and peering into rooms. No sign of Alexander. He finally ends up at the end of the hallway where a sliding door leads to a small porch, and so he slides the door open and steps outside. A figure leans against the railing of the porch and their breath fogs up the air.

“Alexander?” Aaron calls.

The person turns around, and the porchlight illuminates a freckled face, blinking in surprise. “Aaron Burr?”

His stomach twists. “Laurens,” he says, voice tinged with a strange flavor of regret. “I thought you might be Alexander. I’m looking for him.”

“Haven’t seen him,” Laurens says bluntly. His voice seems odd. Heightened with emotion.

“Are you alright?” Aaron asks, moving to stand beside him. 

Laurens swallows, maybe to buy time. “Just a little nervous, if I’m being honest.”

Aaron lifts his brows, looking over at Laurens, asking with his eyes for him to continue.

“Well...” he starts. He wets his lips, wipes his bare palms on his jeans and shoves them into the pockets of his coat. “You can’t tell a soul what I’m about to tell you, alright?” Aaron nods. “I got Alex for my Secret Santa, right? And I-- God. I can’t believe I’m saying this.” He stifles a nervous laugh, looking up at the sky and letting out a sigh that creates a cloud in the cold air. “I’ve kind of. Liked him? For a while. For a long while now.” 

Why does that sit weirdly with him?

“Anyways, I-- hah. I can’t believe I just told you that I like Alex. Of all people.”

And why does that line twist like a knife in his side?

Laurens laughs a short laugh, and keeps on. “I think-- no, no, I’m definitely doing it-- I’m going to kiss him tonight. For the first time.”

Aaron’s stomach catches in his throat. He blinks a few times, tries to swallow down the lump in his throat, and says, “C-- Congrats. That’s exciting.”

“Thanks,” Laurens answers excitedly, rolling forward onto the balls of his feet before falling back onto his heel. “Anyways, I should probably get going. Secret Santa will probably start real soon.”

“Oh,” Aaron breathes.

“Are you alright, Burr?”

Is he? His heart falls through his entire chest, catching in the pits of his belly and fermenting with an incredible feeling of despair. Why wouldn’t he be alright? Alexander would be happy. Wouldn’t he? Happy with Laurens. And isn’t that better, anyways? It’ll keep Alexander out of their room even more. Aaron wouldn’t mind more alone time. He wouldn’t mind the loneliness. 

The loneliness. He wants to throw up.

“I’m fine.”

Laurens shoots him a smile that lights up the entire night, bright and full of sunshine. Aaron responds with a midnight nod. With a wave and a few steps, Laurens is back inside and Aaron is left outside, holding his breath. 

There’s a moment of quiet solitude before a tender voice cuts through the frigid air.

“Excuse me?” asks the young woman. As she inches sheepishly closer, it becomes clear that her eyes are a deep brown, almost black. It’s the same Elizabeth Schuyler from before, with her hair done in a neat braid, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her bare knuckles. “Have you seen Alexander Hamilton?”

All he can muster is a simple shake of his head, and she softly returns in the direction from which she came.

So he goes back inside, but he barely makes it back down that long hallway. Nobody is watching, so he puts his back to the wall and slides down until he’s sitting, staring mindlessly at the wall in front of him. In what world does the thought of John Laurens kissing Alexander Hamilton make his chest boil? This isn’t him. This isn’t him. He’s not sure how long he sits there staring at the blank white wall. He hears their gift exchange start-- Alexander is the one who gathers them all together-- and he doesn’t even care. He just sits there. 

After a while, a young woman with raven hair pulled into a tight bun takes a seat beside him. She’s got a heavy necklace around her neck and gemstones dangling from her ears. In short, she’s beautiful. In a tender voice, she asks if he’s okay.

“Honestly,” he says, his voice laced with angst, “I’m kind of crushed.”

Her pink lips curl into a smile. “I’m Theo. It’s nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge huge huge huge thanks to my friend steph for helping me conceive this baby idea (she's monoyoshi--sadamune on tumblr) and a thanks to my friends who looked this over for me (my dear friend jac and also @johnlaurns and @whatezra on twitter)
> 
> i took some liberties w/ this fic-- aaron burrs age along with many others haha. hopefully that's alright. it doesn't exactly align with a ton of historical stuff but that's less of the point so i don't think it matters a whole ton!! honestly just let me know if any of it is Woefully and Painfully wrong and needs to be fixed-- i'd rather you yell at me about how 100% inaccurate it is than have you Suffer in silence about it
> 
> i also love??? writing hamilton so. hopefully i'll keep a decent schedule with this and it'll be finished in no time!! i'm excited about what this fic has in store :^)
> 
> as always, comments and kudos appreciated <3 
> 
> ps. title comes from this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GpJfV0cGGsE byyyyeeeee
> 
> edit: (11/27) !! i added a little bit here that connects to a later chapter. sorry for people who have already read it w/o it aaaah


	2. alexander hamilton

“I got her gloves. Do you think that’s weird?”   
  
The windowpanes have frosted over and fogged up, little trails of water running down the outside pane. Despite the freezing air outside, the inside of the kitchen is warm and brimming with life. Alexander sits atop the kitchen counter next to the oven, skinny legs dangling and swinging back and forth through the air.  Hercules moves through his kitchen with ease, grabbing warm cookies and popping them into his mouth one after another.   
  
“That’s a pretty standard Secret Santa gift, I’d like to think,” Hercules shrugs, wiping crumbs from his hands. “It seems a hell of a lot harder to shop for a stranger than somebody you know.”  
  
“See,” Lafayette points out, “Another reason why we should have kept the party smaller.”  
  
“Ten people is small!” Hercules reaches to snag another cookie from the pile, ignoring Lafayette’s pointed looks, and shoves it in his mouth before continuing, voice muffled. “Anyways, it’s my party—I can do what I want with it.”  
  
“Ooh, but you’re forgetting with whom you conceived the idea!” Lafayette pouts before reaching over to swipe the collecting crumbs from Hercules’ sweater. “It’s _our_ tradition, Hercules.”  
  
“Yeah, our tradition,” Alexander chimes in, “And _I_ say that ten people aren’t that many.”  
  
Lafayette gasps, splaying a hand across their heart. “You wound me, Alexander.”  
  
To which Alexander gives a shrug, slipping off the counter and reaching for his own cookie and popping it into his mouth, letting the warmth of sugar and vanilla fill his stomach. “Mmm, Laf, you’ve outdone yourself this time. These cookies”—he’s reaching for a second before he’s even finished with the first—“are too delicious for their own good.”  
  
Hercules lifts a brow.  
  
“Hey— hey, don’t give me that look. You’ve both outdone yourselves. The cookies are great, and so are the decorations.” Alexander steps towards the wall, where tinsel and cardboard cutouts hang delightfully. He trails his fingers across the fuzzy tinsel. “You’ve got an eye for design, Herc.”  
  
“I would hope so,” he answers, not so much as batting an eye to Alexander’s flatteries.   
  
Alexander continues to float about the area for a moment. He notes the subtleties in Hercules’ decorations with pride. String lights line the hallway. The Christmas tree is dressed in majestic red and gold ornaments with personal ornaments hanging in between-- a little yarn ornament that looks like it was made by a first grader, a candy-cane with googly eyes glued onto the curve of it. The personal mixes with the decorative. Normal coasters have been replaced with festive homemade green elf ones. Each square foot is adorned festive decoration, varying from ribbons tied around lamps to the wreaths hanging proudly on the wall. Still, something’s off. Despite the beauty and intricacies of the room, something is missing...  
  
“Wait, wait. Did you hang the mistletoe?”  
  
Hercules’ hand immediately comes to his neck, rubbing the back of it as if suddenly that’s the most interesting thing in the world.  
  
“Herc?” Alexander presses, stepping back towards him. “You hung the mistletoe, right?”  
  
He stalls, eyes darting about the room in search of some form of distraction from the question at hand. When he finds nothing worthwhile to distract the determined Alexander, he’s forced to answer: “Well... no.”  
  
“You didn't hang the mistletoe?” It’s not a question so much as a statement of disbelief. He’s getting riled up, his face twisting with a peculiar frustration. “That’s part of the tradition! Mistletoe is just as important as Secret Santa.”  
  
“Somebody always ends up asking for a room! It gets too heated.” Hercules thins his lips.  
  
“It’s tradition!” Alexander whines, moving back towards the kitchen. “Do you have it lying around anywhere? I’ll hang it.”   
  
“Saying it’s tradition is a cop-out,” he says, mostly under his breath. He opens a drawer and pulls out the strand of mistletoe, its green leaves garnished by white berries. “Besides, we all know why you really want it hung up.”  
  
Hercules drops the little plant on the table. Alexander huffily snatches it up, cheeks tinted a hot pink. He gracefully ignores Hercules’ comment and scurries off to hang it. He scans the room, searching for the optimal location for it. When he finally eyes the best spot (near the Christmas tree, but out of the way enough that not everybody will fall victim to it), he hurries over. At first, he stands on his tip-toes to reach the low ceiling and then gives up, and grabs for a nearby step-stool, standing atop it.

It’s still not enough—he’s too short, and he has to stand on his tip-toes.

“Hey, shortie,” says a voice from behind him. He whirls around. “My sister’s looking for you,” Angelica Schuyler says plainly.

“I’m not short—” he starts, crossing his arms across his chest, but knows it’s not even worth it.

Angelica extends a hand, and Alexander frustratedly drops the mistletoe into it. “Even I’m taller than you, Alex.”

All he can manage is a huffy “I know,” and watch her as she stands perfectly on the stool, hanging it with care from a thumbtack. She steps back down, eyeing Alexander with an insatiable curiosity.

“Is this for Laurens?”

He takes a sharp breath, ready to launch into an explanation, but it’s cut short as Angelica slips away, and a new voice replaces hers.  
  
“What’s got you so mad?” Comes a sweet voice, syrupy, the consistency of honey.   
  
John.  
  
His heart catches in the back of his throat, and he quickly wipes his hands on his jeans, turning to face the other. Alexander’s only reaction to the nervousness is to allow his features to burst into a wicked smile, a mischievous glint catching in his eyes. “I wonder. Let’s see.”  
  
They’re simple, devilish words embellished with a flirtatious lilt. He reaches for John’s hand, tugging him closer. He catches John’s other hand as well, thumbing over cool skin—and notices that his hands are quite cold, like he’s just been outside.   
  
When he drops his gaze back to meet John’s eyes and spy his reaction, he notices that his nose is tinged red at the tip and that his cheeks are dusted not only with sunny freckles but with the bite of cold, as well. The contrast is sharply beautiful, making summertime green eyes stand out even more gorgeously in the midst of freezing winter.   
  
It is only then that he notices: the mistletoe is completely crooked. Lopsided, it stands out from the careful decorations which surround it. As his eyes stay trained on the plant, John’s gaze trails up to it as well. His eyes widen and he blinks rapidly, as if he’s searching for something to say. There’s a long pause. Alexander’s romantic heart takes flight. John draws in a breath.  
  
“Mistletoe,” he says, almost dumbfounded.  
  
Alexander nods a youthful, vigorous nod, his smile uncontainable. “Mistletoe,” he repeats, his grin only growing with every moment.  
  
But John is the antithesis of Alexander’s looks. His eyes lack excitement and his face is twisted with a frigid worry. Never before has Alexander seen those hazel eyes look so frosted, so completely void of life. The John he knows lets their knees touch when they sit beside each other. The John he knows would love this moment, would oblige to lean down and kiss his lips. This isn’t right. He thought this through—how it would be absolutely perfect and how the mistletoe would hang perfectly above them and their lips would finally meet, and it would be game-changing.  
  
That’s not what happens. Alexander’s own smile fades, and he drops his hands back to his side, letting John’s hands fall with them.   
  
“Shit,” Alexander breathes, his entire body catching fire.  
  
John steps away, leaving Alexander stranded alone beneath the festive sprig. John is gone as quickly as he’s shown up, hurrying away with an uncertainty plastered across his physique. To see John Laurens flee the scene is harrowing and atypical. It leaves a strange, lifeless feeling in the pit of Alexander’s stomach.  
  
In what world could he have misread this? Alexander had been daydreaming of this moment, had been reveling in the idea of the two of them... but. Ah. He hadn’t really thought through it, had he? Of course John couldn’t love him.   
  
His body feels heavy, crushed under the weight of realization, so he does the only thing he can think of. Tradition. He raises his voice, and he calls the group together, knowing that he can at least find some comfort in the safety of their annual Secret Santa. Maybe he can distract himself. Maybe.  
  
Everybody gathers around the Christmas tree. The murmur of a small crowd is soothing,  and voices from the crowd interweave. Angelica Schuyler sits beside her sister, their shoulders touching. It’s as if they’re eternally inseparable. Watching the two of them sit side by side, Eliza with a warm smile dusting her cheeks pink, is like watching a synthesis.   
  
To the slight left of them are Lafayette and Hercules. Lafayette rests their head on Hercules’ cross-legged thighs, and Hercules’ fingers twirl through his hair. Words escape Lafayette’s lips, twisting through the air, but Alexander doesn’t listen closely enough. On the other side of his friends is Tom Jefferson, belly down on the floor and with his head in his hands, legs crossed behind him. His head tilts to one side, listening to Lafayette beside him, eyes alight with a listening care.   
  
Directly across the circle from him now, John Laurens, his unwavering gaze keep fixed upon the floor. Why is the carpet so damn interesting to him? Alexander’s throat chokes up and he swears that he can feel his heartbeat when John finally looks up, and for a long moment, their eyes are locked. Earthy hazel aligns itself with Alexander’s own eyes, and the bubbly noise of the room fades away. In a single moment, John Laurens captures Alexander’s attention and holds it there. In a single moment, John Laurens has once again looked away.   
  
Once the spell is broken, the room returns to its previous hum of activity. People around him reach for gifts underneath the tree, pulling the festive-paper-wrapped packages into their laps and tearing into the gifts excitedly.   
  
“Alex?”   
  
He turns to face Peggy Schuyler. He hadn’t realized how still he’d and unmoving he’d been until Peggy’s hand rests upon his shoulder. Xe hands him his gift.  
  
“Thank you.” His voice comes out weak in comparison to the joyous noise around him.  
  
He eyes the gift, which rests timidly in his hands. It’s a small thing, a little jewelry box tied with a bow. Frankly, it doesn’t seem fitting. The handwriting on the tag juts out against the pretty silvery box, looking purposefully messy as to avoid detection. The tag reads: “To: Alex. From: s.s.” He peers at the subtleties of the penmanship, trying to decipher who it could possibly be from. It’s not too loopy and not too squarish; it’s perfectly average. After a long moment’s gaze, a gentle voice in his head tells him to just open it already.  
  
So his fingers carefully pull off the metallic red ribbon tied in an X across the package, all the while thinking how jewelry of any sort is not Alexander’s style in the slightest. It strikes him as particularly odd, but he frees the package from its ribbon constraints and slowly lifts the top off of the thin box.   
  
Inside the padded box rests a piece of notebook paper. For a long moment, Alexander is completely taken aback. Opening the perfectly folded paper seems... almost wrong. It would be tampering with a beautiful thing.  
  
Despite this, his curiosity controls him. He takes hold of the thin paper and pulls it apart, unfolding it to splay out the contents of the inside.   
  
_For my Alexander_  
  
My Alexander...?  
  
 _This ticket redeemable for one first kiss_ \--  
  
His eyes catch on that word. ‘Kiss’. It stings to read after such a dreadfully failed attempt at one, knowing that a kiss was not for him. The word ‘kiss’ feels like a rock in the pit of his stomach, heavy and uncomfortable. It is impossible not to notice the feeling of despair which courses through his system as ‘kiss’ calls back moments under the mistletoe with hands gripped in wait, only to be left empty and alone. That memory already feels so heavy in his chest.  
  
But it is now that he realizes-- he recognizes this handwriting. The familiar curve of pen strokes and crossed ‘t’s, this handwriting-- This handwriting. He knows handwriting. He has exchanged so many notes between friends to know exactly who this handwriting belongs to.   
  
_Yrs for ever,_  
 _John Laurens_  
  
The heavy feeling lifts away as soon as it crept in, and his wide eyes surge up to immediately catch those across the circle from him.   
  
John Laurens, a new sketchbook beside him, has been watching him since the gift was dropped in Alexander’s lap. Their eyes meet with an insatiable flame. Alexander’s mouth slightly agape, John’s eyes imploring Alexander to use the ticket now, please. Without thought, Alexander finds that he has already stood and crossed the ring of friends in a flurried daze. He reaches John and immediately shoves the small paper note at him.   
  
He eagerly accepts it, and says in a nervous, hushed voice: “Do you mind if we step outside?”  
  
“Of course not,” Alexander responds, breathy and full of newfound life.   
  
He trails behind John, the two in complete silence. They pass through the hallway-- Alexander thinks that he can hear Aaron Burr somewhere, speaking in hushed tones-- and they reach the back porch. As soon as Alexander has closed the door behind him, he is immediately eyeing John up and down with a pang of hunger. John steps forward, bridging space between them.   
  
There is a moment’s hesitation. John’s warm breath crystallizes in the air into a cloud, and he mumbles, “I’m really, really sorry about earlier...”  
  
Alexander’s eyes trail across John’s face from cheekbone to cheekbone, eyeing each bitty freckle. Finally, they land upon his lips. Distracted, he answers, “It’s fine now.” He’s caught in a moment of intense anticipation, the feelings building in his head like water filling and overflowing. It’s almost hard to breathe. Short, nervous puffs of air leave him, fogging up the space around their mouths until it feels like they draw breaths from the same air, exhalations clouding up and intermingling.   
  
For once in his life, Alexander doesn’t even notice the cold. The cloudy night births a snowflake which lands with grace upon John’s cheekbone, causing Alexander to reach a hand to his face and gently swipe the melting flake away. In less than an instant, his second hand comes to John’s face and he thumbs over sweet freckled skin in awe.   
  
“No, really--” John cuts through to him, “I feel bad.” A beat. “Alex, listen to me-- I wanted it to be private--”   
  
But Alexander is captivated by the movement of his lips. His heart thuds against his ribcage in response to each movement, his eyes wild in watch. This is the moment which he has so long waited for. This kiss has the power to quell every lustful thought from the past year of knowing John Laurens. This kiss could fix every moment spent in painful longing. Alexander wishes desperately that he could shout to his younger self and tell him that one day he’d be in the snow, kissing John Laurens.   
  
“Alex,” John presses. He catches the tip of Alexander’s chin with two fingers. In this movement, he regains Alexander’s focus. Their eyes lock again, and Alexander’s core is screaming.   
  
“What?” he finally manages.   
  
“I didn’t want to hurt you earlier,” John says, voice gentle and full of care. This is why he loves him.   
  
Loves him. “You didn’t hurt me,” Alexander’s voice is hushed.   
  
Laurens takes in a breath, and then says, “I want this moment to be perfect.”  
  
“It’s going to be,” he says. “It’s you. How could it be anything but?”  
  
“Alex--”  
  
“John. I’ve been trying to convince you to kiss me for months. Finally, you agree, and you decide to run your mouth off? I thought that was my job, anyways,” Alexander says, a bite to his voice.  
  
So John nods his head in a solemn manner, and then swallows. “You’re right.”  
  
“I know,” Alexander grins, “So kiss me.”  
  
And he does, leaning in to close that gap of time and space at last. When their lips connect, unspoken tensions dissolve into the cool air around them. They are touching at last, lips hot on lips, and Alexander’s hands move from John’s cheeks and curl around the back of his neck, pulling them closer. Alexander kisses John like a lifeline, as if there has never been any act more important in the world than this one. Their kiss is the crash of cymbals in a symphony, a loud and glorious thing-- yet there and gone in what seems an instant.  
  
The two lean their foreheads together. There is a tingling feeling left where skin has just been on skin. For a moment, the two exhale in quasi-unison, their faces bursting into smiles, soft laughter filling the air. Snowflakes land and coat John’s curly hair with a white wintry blanket and catch in Alexander’s eyelashes. The snow swirls around the two of them as Alexander moves for another impatient kiss, growing in intensity.  
  
There is a desperation in Alexander’s movements. His fingers weave through hair at the nape of John’s neck, and he pulls their bodies even closer. Alexander’s passion melts the icy winter, burning through the frozen air with a warm resilience.   
  
But John pulls back, and he reaches a hand to caress over Alexander’s cheek. The passion resides into a slow flame, and with an unmatched delicacy, John presses a sweet kiss to Alexander’s lips. It is the softest thing; it is angel wings fluttering against cold-chapped lips, gentle and feather-light, leaving Alexander wondering if it could even be real. The chaste kiss is a radiant glow that lights every inch of Alexander’s body with warmth and comfort. He tilts his head into it, lets it deepen naturally.   
  
Love. These beautiful actions fill the air magnificently, and when their lips part and meet again, they are full of warm love. Nothing in this world has ever compared with the brilliance of being enamored of John Laurens; nothing has ever matched the feeling which surges through him when their lips meet. If he could give anything to make this moment last a lifetime, he would. He absolutely would.  
  
So of course the moment is torn apart by the kindest of voices, calling from the doorframe: “Alexander Hamilton?”   
  
He whirls around, wiping a trail of saliva from his mouth, eyes wide in surprise. All he can manage as he pulls away from John (who looks equally shocked) is a dumbfounded grunt.   
  
The girl in the doorway claps a hand to her mouth.   
  
“I’m so sorry-- I’m so embarrassing!”  
  
It is then that he sees her: Elizabeth Schuyler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaa FINALLY !!! some lams!!! my dear babies
> 
> a big thank you to my very dear friends!! jac, steph (@tjeffersondidnt), riley (@johnlaurns), ty (@jdotadams), and others!) they have all helped me through moral support and beta-ing! twitter has been an incredibly helpful platform for me in writing this. if you'd like to follow me, my twitter is @acejlaurens!! 
> 
> secondly, i'm sorry it took so long to update!! not only was this second chapter considerably longer than the first, i also went back to school AND got sick AND slammed with schoolwork, all at once. i wish i hadn't taken so long to write this chapter, but i hope you understand!! 
> 
> thank you for everybody who is reading this!! and as always, your kudos and comments are so appreciated and they make me smile!! <3
> 
> (also p.s. i went with hamilton obc's looks for this-- so j. laurens looks like darling a. ramos and all that!! hence the green eye descriptors)


	3. elizabeth schuyler

As soon as she walked through the door, she felt a jarring sense of misplacement. Angelica told her it would get easier as the night went on and as she grows more accustomed to her surroundings, but Eliza knows that she needs Angelica by her side to make it through this evening.   
  
And she’s right. Without Angelica, it doesn't get any easier. The longer she sits on the outskirts of the room and the more she waits for the perfect moment to introduce herself to someone, the worse it gets. The feeling starts in the pit of her stomach as a small tickle of nerves and blossoms into a full-blown anxiety until she’s practically paralysed at the edge of the room.    
  
She’s always been calm, collected, and well-presented at events such as these, but tonight? Interaction seems impossible. Eliza is used to talking to those older than her and charming her way through family dinners, but a party? Absolutely not. Coupled with not having the homefront advantage or the ability to retreat to her room, it would be a wonder if she could make it through this one evening.    
  
Eliza would just leave, but her name has already been entered in the Secret Santa draw  _ and _ she’d heard from Laurens that Alexander Hamilton had drawn her name. Hamilton’s name was a buzzword around campus, flying out of gossipy lips with ease. He’d published his minimum wage essay on the campus’ online newspaper, but it wasn’t until after he’d responded to literally every single comment made on the article that people had been blown away by his brilliance. There was talk of him running for Student Council. Eliza wouldn’t be surprised if there was talk of him running for President of the United States at this point.    
  
When the three Schuyler sisters were getting dressed for the party, Eliza might have been a little daring and done her make-up bolder than usual. Was it an attempt to be noticed? She was never one to make herself largely noticeable. Perhaps, if nothing else, she wanted to dazzle Alexander if the two met.    
  
And she figured they would, since he’d drawn her name. But it seemed better to actually meet him first, maybe chat him up about his article online and how she’d admired his replies. Or maybe that was too much?    
  
The feeling of anxiety only grows. She hasn’t even seen him around. Angelica told her that Hamilton was a social butterfly, but she hadn’t anticipated him fluttering about so much that she couldn’t so much as lay an eye on him.    
  
If only she was good in situations like these! If only she could flutter like Alexander Hamilton. Her fingers twitch with insecurity, pulling her sweater sleeves over her knuckles. She couldn’t possibly be on the same level as somebody like Alexander. She wasn’t destined to meet him. Coming to the party was absolutely useless, her brain tells her.    
  
From the back of her head, she hears her sisters’ voices: “If you’re ever uncomfortable, feel free to step outside and catch your breath.”   
  
It feels safest that way, so she shoves through crowds of people and stumbles outside into the bitter New York winter. The chill catches in the back of her throat, and she shivers a hushed “it’s freezing” to herself as she crosses her arms across her chest. Leaning her back against the exterior wall of the apartment, she watches her breath fog up the night air in short puffs, then longer breaths, and finally, a drawn-out sigh.    
  
Once she catches her breath, she resumes her previous thoughts. Perhaps Alexander Hamilton is outside. Wouldn’t that be nice? A fair way to meet him without the pressure of a hugely social environment. She finds herself smiling to herself, and tucking strands of hair which have escaped her braid back behind her ears as she takes off to the back of the house. There’s a porch, if she remembers correctly, and perhaps he’ll be standing outside, catching a few breaths of fresh air.   
  
Illuminated by the porchlight is the silhouette of a young man that Eliza doesn’t recognize.    
  
“Alexander Hamilton?” she asks, voice timid. There’s no response-- perhaps she was too quiet?   
  
She takes a step forward, and recognizes that it’s not Alexander but rather his roommate. She tries to call his name back to her memory, but she’s uncertain, so she settles for a gentle “Excuse me?”   
  
His roommate turns to face her and she gives a timid smile, inching towards him. No response, so she continues on. “Have you seen Alexander Hamilton?” She asks, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her knuckles. The cold really does have a bite to it.    
  
Alexander’s roommate still doesn’t answer, only responding with a meager shake of his head. His eyes seem so sad... she considers, for a moment, staying and asking what’s wrong. But she knows that in that instance, she would much rather be alone, and maybe he’s anxious, like her! She scurries off back to the side of the house, where she’s greeted by her sister.   
  
“Where have you been?” Angelica chides.    
  
“I stepped out to get some fresh air,” Eliza responds, rubbing her sweater-covered hands together.   
  
Angelica softens, her eyes warm. She takes Eliza’s hand. “You really ought to get some gloves.”   
  
“I know,” Eliza mumbles as Angelica pulls her back inside through the front door.   
  
“They’re about to start Secret Santa,” Angelica adds, waggling her eyebrows.   
  
That ignites a smile on Eliza’s face, so she is content to follow Angelica and take a seat beside her in the now-gathered circle of people. With their shoulders touching, Eliza’s heart flutters. She leans into her sister’s side and whispers, “Do you really think Alexander Hamilton is my Secret Santa?”   
  
Angelica gives a pointed smile, and in that fleeting moment, Elizabeth Schuyler catches Alexander Hamilton’s eyes at last.   
  
They sparkle with a brilliance, dazzling and alive. The way he sits, his body tired but somehow completely fearless, is insanely beautiful. The way his hair frames his face... She feels like she’s drowning. She’s doomed.    
  
She doesn’t even know the boy, and her heart is booming.    
  
The whole Secret Santa ordeal is less of an actual ordeal than she imagined. When her gift is handed to her by Herc Mulligan, its sloppy wrapping and poor decoration immediately points to Alexander Hamilton. All the other boys here have an eye for these things-- and Alexander’s would be the only one wrapped so awkwardly.   
  
Eliza tugs apart the paper to reveal a set of pastel pink winter gear. Pale pink gloves smile warmly up at her. A pleasant pink hat with a pom-pom atop it greets her. She tugs the hat over her carefully plaited hair and looks back across the circle in an attempt to catch Alexander’s eyes once again.    
  
And he isn’t there.    
  
Almost as soon as she’d caught his eyes, he’s once again disappeared. In his ever-relentless nature, he’s already off with somebody else. Her heart wobbles, but does not falter.    
  
Once again, she turns to her sister. “Did you see where Alexander went?”    
  
With a cocked brow, Angelica says, “No clue.”   
  
So Eliza stands with a helpless sigh, and begins the search once again for Hamilton. She peeks into the kitchen where she spies piles of cookies and bowls of chips. A couple of his friends have dispersed into the kitchen, and one pipes up.    
  
“Are you searching for Hamilton?” asks Gilbert Lafayette.    
  
Eliza nods.   
  
“He’s outside.” That response earns a giggle from Herc Mulligan.    
  
“Right, thank you!”    
  
Eliza beams, and turns on her heel to head outside through the back sliding porch door. Elated, she practically waltzes towards the back door and slides the door open excitedly. There, she sees Alexander’s back turned to face whomever he’s with.  _ That’s fine _ , she thinks,  _ I’ve only come to thank him for the gift _ . This time, before she steps outside, she pulls her new gloves over her hands.   
  
They fit perfectly.    
  
As she pulls the door open, she immediately calls out, voice excited and full of gratitude, “Alexander Hamilton!”   
  
But Alexander’s not just with somebody, he’s been... kissing somebody. Alexander pulls away from...  _ John Laurens _ accompanied by the sound of the death of a kiss. John shoos behind Alexander, who wipes at his warm lips.    
  
She covers her mouth with her hand in shock. “I’m so sorry-- I’m so embarrassing!” she blurts out, dropping her gloved hand back to her side. Of all of the ways she dreamt up meeting Alexander personally, she never imagined it would be after she walked in on him kissing somebody.   
  
_ Oh.  _   
  
He’s been kissing somebody. That’s right.    
  
Her heart wobbles, but does not falter. She is not here to make Alexander Hamilton fall in love with her. She is here to thank him for his gift.    
  
“I’m-- sorry again,” she stammers.   
  
Alexander blinks a few times. “It’s not a big deal.” Eliza blinks. “Well, it’s a bit awkward.” She blinks again. “It was really awkward. But there’s absolutely no need to be sorry,” Alexander finally says.    
  
Her look softens into a radiant smile which seems to melt the snow around her. Alexander steps forward, forcing John Laurens to remove himself from behind Alexander’s back.    
  
“This is my friend, John.” Alexander gestures at him.    
  
“Your friend John...” Eliza hums, “Who you kiss.”   
  
At that, John Laurens snickers. “Apparently.”   
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alexander’s friend John, who he kisses.”   
  
John smiles politely and extends his hand to shake Eliza’s. She takes his hand in hers and gives it a firm shake in greeting, and the two lock eyes. In his gaze, Eliza sees a glorious warmth. It draws her in until the world is shrouded in earth-hazel green.   
  
“A pleasure, Elizabeth Schuyler,” John says.   
  
“How do you know my name?” she asks.   
  
“Who doesn’t know your name?” Alexander butts in, a grin growing on his face. “You’re a Schuyler sister. Everybody knows you.”   
  
Ah. And she thought that Alexander could not possibly know her name! Perhaps both of them knew the other through names and pictures and rumors and words on the internet. That thought tugs the corners of her lips upwards into a smile.    
  
Alexander opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by a melodic chirping ringtone. John digs his phone from his pocket and pulls it to his ear.   
  
“Hello?” John answers. “Uh, I’m with Alexander and Eliza Schuyler... no, not busy...” His eyes widen in surprise. “Aaron Burr?” Alexander’s eyebrows lift at the mention of the name. “Well, yeah. I doubt he’d want to see me, of all people...” John takes a meager step towards the sliding door. “Is he alright?” Running a hand through his hair, he exhales a defeated and final, “Okay, sure. I’ll be in in a second,” before hanging up and shoving the phone back into his pocket.   
  
“Sorry,” he mumbles, “There’s some trouble inside.”   
  
Alexander furrows his brows and frowns. “Is Burr okay?”   
  
“He’s... alright,” John manages, “But you should stay out of it.”   
  
His tone is final. Eliza notes Alexander’s frustration manifesting in huffy breaths as John heads inside, closing the sliding door behind him.    
  
Alexander and Eliza are left alone in the snow.    
  
Nervous, Eliza tugs at a stray pink thread which has come ever-so-slightly undone, only for it to get longer as she pulls at it. A sigh clouds the air with a crystal-colored vapor, and Alexander steps towards her.   
  
“Let me help,” he offers, and she extends her hand. He tugs the string quickly from her palm before flipping her gloved hand over and bringing her knuckles to his lips. “It really is a pleasure to meet you,” he says.    
  
She can’t help but smile wide. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” Eliza says.   
  
“And the same can be said for me,” Alexander answers, “but with you, it’s all good things.”   
  
She bats a hand feverishly. “No, no-- it’s all good things about you, too!”   
  
He meets her sparkling gaze with his twinkling eyes and between them the entire solar system glows. Eliza feels a pull which paints her lips in a gorgeous smile. Time slows to a stand-still and the glistening snow freezes in the form of constellations between the two of them. A flake stops on the edge of Alexander’s eyelashes, and Eliza catches a breath as it glimmers in moonlight.   
  
She extends a hand to wipe it from his eyelid, saying softly, “You’ve got a snowflake on your eyelash.”   
  
“Oh,” he breathes, lips parted in a pinkish circle, “Thank you.”   
  
Eliza wipes the flake onto his skin, where it melts into a teardrop. She thumbs over the drop until it dries, and lets her hand linger on his cheek for just a moment.    
  
She suddenly wonders if Alexander can feel the burning brilliance between the two of them. There is something in the air; the scent of love, cool and fresh and sweet. How could anybody miss it? But she’s lingered too long, so she takes a graceful step back, dropping her hand back to her side.    
  
“Thanks,” Alexander says again, choppy and awkward. He rubs the back of his neck as Eliza gives a half-hearted laugh.    
  
For a moment, the two are completely silent. It is a silence Eliza anticipated as awkward and uncomfortable, but somehow it doesn’t end up that way. Somehow, the quiet is calming. Somehow, Eliza doesn’t imagine it’ll stay quiet for long.    
  
She’s right-- after only a moment or two Alexander pipes up, “I’m really glad I drew your name.”   
  
“You got me gloves,” Eliza says with a laugh.   
  
“Well-- yeah,” Alexander starts, “But I did it for a reason. Every time I saw you, you were always tugging at the sleeves of your sweater. At first I thought maybe you just liked to, but then I realized that you didn’t own literally any gloves, and I was like, this girl is crazy! She lives in New York City and doesn’t own a  _ single _ pair of gloves. So I picked those out for you, specifically...” A beat. “I was worried that maybe it would look like a generic I-didn’t-know-what-to-get-you gift.”   
  
She softens. “Alexander, thank you.”    
  
“He really did worry about his damn gift for you!” comes a voice from the doorway. When Eliza turns around, it’s Hercules Mulligan with John Laurens at his side. She breathes a laugh back at the two of them. Hercules shoves John back outside, closing the door behind him, and Laurens stumbles towards Eliza and Alexander.   
  
“Well...” Eliza gives a nod towards John, “I... should go, since your boyfriend is here now!” That earns laughs from both John and Alexander.   
  
“Not my boyfriend,” John points out, fighting a dust of pink on his cheeks.   
  
Alexander can’t help but add a bitty “yet.”   
  
Eliza swallows. “I was just heading home anyways,” she tries again. “Parties like this aren’t really my thing, you know?”   
  
“I understand,” John says, before quickly adding, “But it wouldn’t be polite of me to let a lady walk home alone.”   
  
“And in the cold!” Alexander pipes up, stepping to match John. “We’ll walk you home.”   
  
That comforts the doubt which had crept up in her stomach.    
  
“Are you certain this isn’t an excuse for more kisses in the snow?” Eliza quips, lips breaking into a toothy grin.    
  
The two boys quickly shake their head in unison.   
  
Eliza walks the whole distance with John on one side and Alexander on the other. The snow falls fiercely now, with a ferocity that it had lacked when the three had been standing alone on the back deck. Despite living only a few blocks from the Mulligans apartment, Eliza finds the entire walk home pleasantly long in the cool winter.    
  
As they walk, they chat. Their voices fill empty space with the joyous noises of jokes and laughter. The three of them together exude a springtime radiance, melting snow and growing flowers with each step they take. Their hands brush each other’s as they walk so close to one another. It is as if the trio simply cannot get enough of each other.    
  
Her apartment is a first-floor room, with floral curtains masking the view of the inside. Were one to peek into the interior, they would find a quaint space shared amongst her sisters, a beautiful homely place that is as welcoming as it is warm, but Eliza’s evening-long smile melts into a gentle frown as they come upon it.   
  
“Thank you for walking me home...” she says, voice trailing off with the melancholy of parting.   
  
Alexander and John smile’s are the antithesis to her sudden blues, and they paint over them a happy pink.   
  
“Of course,” John beams. “I think we need to see more of each other in the future.”   
  
“The sooner in the future, the better,” Alexander adds, nodding, rolling back onto the heels of his feet and then forward.   
  
She can’t help but smile. “Of course. I’m really grateful for your company.”   
  
John pulls her in for a hug, and Alexander wraps his arms around the two of them so that all three are clinging to each other gleefully. In the midst of the snow which forms a crest atop the pom-pom of her hat, it is the warmest thing she has felt in a long while.    
  
The three pull apart and give chaste goodbyes and Eliza turns to ascend the stairs leading up to her doorstep. There are but a few steps to cover, but her heart is racing with the prospect of seeing them  _ in the future _ . She reaches the top stair and digs through her pockets, searching for the key to let her inside. When she’s finally found it, she unlocks the door and swings it open. She pauses, looks back at the two boys.   
  
She is completely stricken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaAAAAAAA i'm finally done!! i remember last time i updated i was like "omg i'm not going to take another month to update that would be ridiculous" but here we are... yikes. i actually didn't have a beta for this chapter so if you catch any horrendous mistakes feel free to yell at me, i would be happy for it tbh. 
> 
> thanks to everyone who's stuck it out!! writing chapterfic is really hard for me so i'm grateful if there is anybody who's actually been reading since the beginning....pfafahfahfahdf
> 
> you can catch me on twitter at @acejlaurens or tumblr at bihamiltons.tumblr.com, i'd love to chat!!


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